


Artificial Nocturne

by Kagutsuchi



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: F/M, Tulip's wary as they come but even she's susceptible to Cassidy's charms, for his part Cass just wants to know her name mostly, that and whether or not he can move in yet, though she doesn't hesitate to call him out on tricking her into a kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 19:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7280821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kagutsuchi/pseuds/Kagutsuchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassidy makes for a strange bedfellow, though not in the literal sense, as much as he might like that. Tulip takes the measure of a man who isn’t a man at all. </p><p>A fic that explores the more or less immediate aftermath of the sneak peak for episode 4, South Will Rise Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Artificial Nocturne

Her mother’s house was a respectable if sparsely furnished place, always well-lighted, always spic and span. It’s not as though her mother was ever really there, but she always thought of it as her mother’s house, because it wasn’t hers to call home. Annville was never hers to call home either because it didn’t want her, and you couldn’t want a place if it didn’t want you. It was still hard to process the fact that she was even in Annville, much less the fact that a fucking vampire was sleeping in her mother’s bed.

Because surely, that had to be what he was? Tulip was no stranger to the weird; that was part and parcel of growing up in the town that God forgot but the devil never failed to remember. She’d never met a vampire, herself, though she did see what she thought was a chupacabra once. Took a big shit on her uncle’s porch and ran off in the direction of the traveling petting zoo where her uncle had already decimated the goat population. Little fucker was s.o.l. The next day, she’d told everyone at school who would listen what she’d seen and got sternly reprimanded for “telling wild stories.” _How do you know it was a chupacabra, Priscilla-Jean?_ the teacher had asked. _Because I’ve seen old man Quincannon plenty a times. I know what a chupacabra looks like._ That landed her in the principal’s office.

She turned her attention back to the vampire she definitely hadn’t invited in, much less invited to stay. And yet he was still here, fiddling with his hair in front of her mother’s washed-out pink vanity. He was tall and thin, but she could see the faint outline of definition in his wiry arms and shoulders even from here through the Annville Savages shirt one of the taller girls at Toadvine had graciously given her for the purpose of clothing him. He couldn’t lounge around in nothing but a blood-stained thermal. It was the first time she’d really gotten a good look at him standing up instead of lying prone on her mother’s bedsheets...or against her thighs. She put the thought out of her mind.

“So you’ve got a reflection, too? That must be convenient. The tricorn hat must’ve gone outta fashion a few decades back. Gotta keep up with the times.” He jumped several feet in the air, startled.

“Don’t sneak up on a man like that!” he hissed. “And I was just leaving, right? Just had to get meself sorted...where’ve you been?”

“You sure startle easy for a guy that’s supposed to do the bumping in the night, not be the one receiving the bumping.”

“Seems a shame. Bumping’s rather nice.” The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a tentative smirk, but she didn’t take the bait.

“Anyway, I’ve been dealing with the dead. The _actual_ dead, not the _un_ dead.”

He surveyed her progress from the doorjamb to the foot of the bedspread, leaning precariously against the vanity with his head cocked to one side. “This have something to do with that Clive bloke you were dead-set on clubbing? Did yeh kill him?”

“No, that was never my intention...and it’s best left alone now anyway. Someone had to take care of Lacey’s remains, her being cut off from her family and all. They ain’t showing. No one ever comes back to this town after they leave it for good...’cept me, apparently. And a few other idiots.” Jesse’s name hung heavy from the roof of her mouth, but she was sick of saying it. Time was, it was an incantation that kept her going, but nowadays, it was just ash on her tongue.

“Friend of mine said something similar...said he had a promise to keep. Seems like that’s the only thing that keeps anyone in this town. That and lack of funds, which happens to be my situation.” Cassidy grinned sheepishly until he noticed Tulip’s eyelids fluttering, forcefully blinking back tears. He reached for her shoulder, but she grabbed his arm midway.

“What’s the matter, luv? Tell me everything.” Tulip frowned and glared at him intently, despite the unmistakeable gentleness in his tone.

“Why should I tell you? Why am I even talking to you? You were supposed to get gone before I came back!”

“Daylight, remember? I mean, I could go, but not even you’re that heartless, are yeh?” He raised his eyebrows and she sighed.

“No,” she grunted noncommittally, unclamping her fingers from his wrist and changing the subject. “So what happened last night, exactly?”

“It’s a funny story, really. Only the best night of my life.” Tulip rolled her eyes.

“What did you hope to gain by scaring the shit out of me, I mean? Disappearing on me like that, only for me to find you covered in blood?”

“I just sort of...fall into these things. Sometimes literally. Thanks for that, by the way - if you hadn’t gotten me to the hospital in time, I’d probably be hunting down a rat or two to chew on.”

She raised an incredulous brow. “You mean to say you could’ve survived that without immediate access to blood?”

“Probably. I’ve weathered worse. I’m not sure what slowed me down more at the time - the drugs or the whole bleeding profusely bit.”

Tulip twisted her face into a scowl. “So you asked me to kiss you for the hell of it then? Not because you were on your deathbed?”

He let out a hoarse laugh and backed away from her almost imperceptibly. “Truthfully, I don’t remember. Just know that it hurts every time, as much as it would hurt for you or anyone else still living.” The jut of her chin locked her eyes onto his.

“Ain’t no excuse for taking advantage of me. Or anyone.”

“I’m tellin you it was the drugs! Or the fact I was bleedin out in the arms of a beautiful woman who actually gave two shits about my sorry arse, take your pick!”

Tulip turned on her heel and headed for the hall, mostly to conceal the flush in her cheeks. “Just don’t make a habit of it,” she snapped over her shoulder. “You can stay here during the day until you get your shit together. But don’t think of this as some kinda halfway house. It’s not even my house.”

“You sure about that, Priscilla-Jean?” He waved a gingham jumpsuit in front of her face and she turned to kick him squarely in the nuts.

“How the hell do you know that’s my name, you goddamn creep?” He groaned.

“Lucky guess...was just looking about the house and came across a whole closetful of those jumpsuits with your name on em. Figured them for yours as a kid, as this house doesn’t really fit your style, does it, what with the doilies and little porcelain animals and whatnot?”

“Casing the joint, eh? Find anything?” She had him firmly by the collar now.

“Nothing, I swear! I mean, I found some cash under the floorboards beneath the bed here and a few old pharmaceuticals in the medicine cabinet, but I didn’t touch a bit of it. Promise. You can check.” Tulip loosened her grip on his collar and pushed him against the wall, eyes narrowed.

“It’s just a habit of mine. Can’t be too careful of the people you meet. Always need to be ready to run, have a backup plan.” She stood back, looking him over with bright, focused eyes. He winced slightly beneath her gaze. He had a curious sort of naïveté about him and his unstudied, lowbrow chivalry - an artlessness that made her trust him against her own better judgment.

“I can respect that. But for future reference, it ain’t Priscilla-Jean. It’s Tulip.” She smiled in spite of herself and felt her face grow hot. As a rule, she only told those she trusted her real name - the name she’d made for herself.

He nodded and apparently judged himself high enough in her good graces to give her a shit-eating grin. “Cassidy.” He’d said he didn’t have fangs, but he certainly had well-developed canines.

She needed Jesse now more than ever, if only to keep her from needing anything else.


End file.
